


Night After Night

by sorbriquette



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: (at times at least), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Simon has nightmares, Will basically be told in terms of their nights together, also a lil bit of angst, realising feelings through the medium of cuddling, so obvs he gets into bed with baz, which are waaaay worse after his run in with the humdrum at the end of 7th year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-04 07:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14587884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorbriquette/pseuds/sorbriquette
Summary: It's not something I ever thought I'd be doing, crawling into bed with Baz in the wake of my nightmares.They're not just nightmares anymore though, are they? Because the Humdrum can summon me. It could summon me at any moment.That’s why this makes sense. Baz is a brilliant magician and just brilliant in general. If we ended up whisked away in the middle of the night Baz would get us out of there (or himself at least).And if not?Well, if The Humdrum killed Baz that would solve some of my problems. So, I suppose it has to be Baz.It has to be Baz because it doesn’t really matter if he dies.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Should be around 8 chapters I reckon. I've got it planned out but also I just wrote chapter three and it wasn't v long so it had to get merged with chapter four. If yall are here for another massive fic, this is not what this is, it'll be a lot shorter than my last.  
> Anyways as always, questions, comments, criticisms and complaints are always welcome. Hope yall enjoy!

**Baz**

Of all the things I would expect to come of my kidnapping, my mother's visiting, and me and Snow's shaky truce, this was not it.

 

It's late and I wake to the sound of a muffled scream. He's having another nightmare. This is nothing new. We've both been plagued by them since before we even came to Watford I think.

 

So, I close my eyes and will myself to fall back to sleep, trying my best not to think about the boy I love shaking and terrified less than a couple of meters away from me. Truce or no, this is not my place. We're still enemies, it isn't my job to comfort Simon Snow in the wake of his nightmares.

 

Crowley, I wish it was. It's not though.

 

This time seems different though. I can hear the sobs rake through his body and up his throat. He's trying to be quiet. Probably thinks I'll mock him like I have every other time he's cried. He's probably right too, because what else am I supposed to do if I he finds out I heard this?

 

He sniffles and chokes out another sob.

 

And another.

 

And another.

 

I'm not sure how long this goes on for. Simon sitting up in his bed and crying. A lot longer than usual.

 

When did this start? Is it the first time? Or was he awake and tormented by this while I was stuck in that fucking coffin?

 

Eventually, I give up trying to ignore him. "Crowley, Snow, would you shut up? I'm trying to sleep." I snap at him across the darkness.

 

He tenses, I can hear the catch in his throat as he realises I'm awake. I expect him to storm out, maybe throw a pillow at me. All I get though is another sob and a choked out. "S-sorry."

 

I roll over to face him because it's dark and he can't see the concern etched into my face. I can see him though, one of the few perks of being a vampire I guess. He looks like a wreak. He's sitting up, propped up against the wall and there are tear tracks down his face. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to get up and walk over to him and wipe them away.

 

He picks up a pillow and presses his face into it, muffling the sobs. I feel guilt tug at my insides just a little. I shouldn't have told him to shut up. He slowly gets back under his blankets and curls in on himself, clutching the pillow tightly.

 

A short while passes before he lifts his head. He says my name softly, so quietly I can barely hear it. "Baz?"

 

"What Snow?"

 

"Can I-" He doesn't finish, I see him roll his lips between his teeth for a second. He's obviously shaken up and I'm only making it worse. I hate myself for it. I also know I'm only going to keep making it worse.

 

"Spit it out, Snow."

 

He swallows so obviously that even in the dark I can see it. "Can I sleep with you?"

 

All I can think is, what? So that's exactly what I say.

 

"What?" My voice comes out smaller and more shocked than I'd like. But it's late and Snows a mess and if he wanted to call me out on it he'd have to bring up this.

 

"Never mind, I'm sorry." He's apologising _again._ Crowley, he's right, I am a git.

 

Simon Snow just asked to get into bed with me. I can't quite process this. I'm not entirely sure I'll ever know how to think again.  A few seconds pass and I'm almost entirely sure he can hear the heavy beating of my heart from across the room. It's almost certain he will if I let him get any closer.

 

I'm weak though. If Simon Snow wants to get into bed with me, I'm not going to turn him down. I'm not sure I _can_ turn him down. 

 

"Will it shut you up?" I ask, fighting to keep my voice steadier and more confident than I feel.

 

Another sniffle pierces the silence. "I don't know."

 

I just sigh and flip up the covers on one side of my bed. I roll over to face away from him because I'm not entirely sure I won’t spill several years worth of secrets and longing to him if he's in my bed and I can see those ridiculously blue eyes up close.

 

He hesitantly gets up. He makes his way over to me and slides under the covers.

 

He's so hot. Not in an attractive way, though there's certainly that too. No, as in, temperature wise he's slowly making the space under my blankets feel like a fucking sauna. I probably wouldn't need the window closed if he was here every night. I chastise myself for letting myself think about that.

 

Slowly, he seems to calm down. His breathing levels out and the sobs stop.

 

It's not the first time in my life I fall asleep to the tune of Snow's breathing, it's just the first time I can feel it caressing the back of my neck. Mouth breather.

 

**Simon**

I wake up slowly.

 

For once in my life, I don't wake up feeling too hot. That's the first thing I notice.

 

Then one thing leads to another and I examine the rest of my situation.

 

I realise my arm is draped across something cool, but not unpleasantly so. I feel soft hair tickling my cheek, it smells nice and altogether familiar. I can hear soft breathing just in front of me, that's familiar too.

 

And then all of last night rushes back to me and I'm suddenly very awake. I'm suddenly very aware that I've my arm wrapped around my arch-nemesis and that I was just smelling his fucking hair.

 

I recoil like I've been burned.

 

Somehow though it feels more like pulling away burns. I tell myself that it's only because Baz is so bloody cold. Then I don't let myself think about it. I don't let myself consider other reasons.

 

I get up and start getting ready because it will be time for breakfast soon and the second I have a reason to get out of here I will.

 

It was the Humdrum. I dreamed about the Humdrum. I have been since the end of last year.

 

My nightmares have been getting worse. They've been invaded by memories of the blood being pulled out of Penny's arm through her pores. And whatever the hell it was that allowed me to grow wings and a tail. And how Penny got rid of my wings and tail, and how much that hurt. And, the cherry on top of the shit cake, that the Humdrum looks exactly like me.

 

I knew the nightmares were a lot worse than before. I didn't realise they'd be bad enough to actually make me ask Baz (fucking Baz Pitch) if I could get into bed with him. We're on a truce but were still enemies.

 

Are we though? He said _yes_. Even if it was just to shut me up. He could have just kicked me out of the room. He didn't though.

 

I don't know what this means for us. I'm not sure I want to.

 

As if on cue, Baz wakes up, rubbing his eyes with the thumb and index finger of his hand.

 

I hesitate, halfway to putting on my tie.

 

His eyes finally come to rest on me. "Don't tell me you're so daft as to be unable to put on a tie _after_ Bunce has spelled it for you."

 

Apparently, nothing's changed. Good. It would be weird if it had.

 

I finish fixing my tie that is, admittedly, spelled to do most of the work itself. "You can't be giving me shit for taking a few seconds to put on a tie when you spend an hour in the bathroom every morning." I retort, gathering my things.

 

"It's not an hour, Snow, though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to learn you can't tell time." He sneers back at me. "Are the increments of sixty too much for your little brain to handle."

 

"Fuck off, Baz," I say making my way over to the door. "There's only an hour and a half of breakfast left, if you don't start getting ready now, you won’t make it." I add before closing the door behind me.

 

It wasn't a very good last word. It never is when it's mine. But I take solace in the fact that I still got the last word.

 

There are only twenty minutes until the end of breakfast when Baz walks in.

 

He's not looking at me as he settles into his place with Dev and Niall.

 

 _An hour and ten minutes_. I think with a smirk as I tuck into what I think is my fourth scone this morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a particularly eventful chapter, but I felt I needed to establish the pattern. I promise it'll pick up soon.
> 
> Regardless, hope yall enjoy!

**Simon**

It happens again. I wake up sweating and shaking. There are hot tears running down my cheeks.

 

They shouldn't get to me so much these nightmares. They do though. Baz always says I'm thick, but even I'm not thick enough to not know why this gets under my skin so much.

 

It's going to happen again. Not the nightmares, the Humdrum. It terrifies me. I don't think I can beat it. I wouldn't have survived last time if it hadn't been for Penny. I don't think I'll survive next time if Penny's not there.

 

What scares me most about that is that I _want_ her to be there to help. She's my best friend and if I have to face this I need her at my side.

 

But then I think back to what happened to her arm last time and I nearly gag.

 

I don't want Penny anywhere near the Humdrum. But I also don't want me anywhere near the Humdrum if she's not there.

 

I'm probably the worst best friend ever.

 

I don't think I can face it alone. I know Penny won’t let me face it alone. I love her for that. I think I hate me a little for that though.

 

"Baz?" I say his name softly, tentatively, through the darkness again.

 

There's silence for a few moments and I think maybe he's asleep still. That _somehow,_ he's still asleep.

 

Or maybe he's awake and knows what I'm going to ask and just isn't okay with it happening again. He could just say no. I half wish he'd say no. Then I could stop thinking about crawling into my, definitely evil, definitely a vampire, roommate's bed whenever I wake up in a panic. If he'd just say no I could stop even entertaining the possibility.

 

Then, he mumbles a quick. "Fine." And tugs back the edge of his blankets.

 

I feel almost thankful he didn't make me ask the question again.

 

"Wait." He says rolling onto his back and holding up a hand.

 

I freeze, halfway out of bed thinking he's changed his mind. Somehow a flush of embarrassment makes its way to my cheeks amongst the mess of tears and worry I know is spread across my face right now.

 

"If you want to sleep with me you have to close the window." The words seem strange on his tongue. I'm sure he hears it too. For someone with near perfect enunciation and such a way with words, it's strange to hear something sound so odd on his lips.

 

I consider for a second, resigning myself to go through my misery alone.

 

I need someone there though. I need to know there's someone beside me. That when it comes to it I'm not going to get dragged off on my own and meet my end. If that person is Baz, the one person who probably wants to end me more than the Humdrum, well, he'll just have to do.

 

I get up and close the window before walking over to Baz's bed. He's on his side again facing away from me, like he was last time.

 

I hesitate a second. Still standing, fingers curled into the corner of the blanket.

 

I should stop this.

 

I shouldn't do this.

 

Then I think of Penny and the Humdrum. More tears spring to my eyes. Baz turns his head slightly to look at me. I can't see him properly in the dark, but he doesn't seem to be scowling or sneering. He just looks tired and impatient. He's waiting for me to make up my mind I think.

 

Baz is right here and he's not going to kill me in my sleep. At least he didn't last time. He didn't mock me for it either, even though I was absolutely sure that was the only reason he'd even agreed.

 

So, I gingerly climb under the covers, careful not to touch him too much. They aren't massive beds, there's only so much of that I can do. Baz sleeps on his side at least, so do I, albeit curled into a ball. We fit. We're not quite touching. He's close though, not even an inch away.

 

It's enough for now. Enough to remind me that someone's there. I know the only reason Penny got dragged off to the Humdrum with me last time is because she was touching me.

 

But somehow this feels like enough.

 

The shivering and the sobbing slowly subside.

 

It's not until they're gone that I realise I'm entirely too hot.

 

I bring my hand up to my face and tilt my head forward slightly as I rub along my jaw. My fingers are far too warm to help, but as I lean forward my forehead brushes something cool. It takes me a moment to realise it's the back of Baz's neck. I jerk my head back.

 

He is cold though and I feel like I'm burning up. So, I wait for a beat. And then another just to be sure he isn't going to roll over and shove me onto the floor. Then I slowly tilt my head forward again till it's resting against the nape of his neck. I feel him tense for a moment and almost back off, but then he just relaxes into it. So, I do too.

 

I consider for a moment what else he'd let me do. I woke up this morning with an arm draped over him but I know I did that in my sleep. I know he was asleep as well otherwise I'm sure I'd have been on the floor the moment he realised.

 

So it’s probably best I don’t try to use him as an ice pack, even if he’s insisting on having the window closed.

 

Baz is already doing more of a favour for me than I could ever have expected of him. In fact, I'm pretty sure Baz Pitch wouldn't piss on me if I were on fire. He'd wait till I'd burned up and then piss on my corpse probably. So, I don't push him. I'll take what I can get with Baz.

 

**Baz**

Simon Snow is in my bed again.

 

Simon Snow is in my bed and he's just pressed his forehead up against the base of my neck.

 

I think I might scream.

 

He's awake and doing it consciously this time too.

 

I woke up a few days ago to Simon wrapped around me and I barely even had time to enjoy it before he woke up and panicked. The bastard. As if I needed a reminder that he'd never really want this. That he'd never want _me_.

 

I close my eyes enjoying what might be the only non-violent contact I've had from Snow since we met.

 

 

I open my eyes to a little more of it.

 

The sun is peaking through the window because Snow didn't think to close the curtains when he shut the window last night.

 

He still sleeps curled in a knot, I can feel his knees poking into my back and I'm pretty sure that's going to become a problem if I let him crawl into bed with me after every nightmare. I can't really bring myself to care though, because his forehead is still warming the back of my neck again and the hand that isn't currently tangled in the back of my pyjama shirt is resting on my hip. My shirt has apparently ridden up in the night because a couple of Snow's fingertips are pressed directly on my skin.

 

I just want to lay here and take it in this time without Snow waking up and running out of here like he did last time.

 

Because the universe hates me, I immediately hear a change in Snow's breathing that means he's woken up.

 

I close my eyes and wait for it. That moment he recoils in shock and horror. When he realises what he's done and I have to wait another few days while he avoids eye contact with me. While the smell of smoke and Watford soap fades from my pillows. While I curse myself for agreeing to this and knowing full well I'll agree again if he asks.

 

It's awful of me but I hope his nightmares continue. I hope he keeps crawling into bed with me and I can keep feeling like we're more than enemies. I hate seeing him upset, but I love that he uses me to calm down.

 

I'm under no illusions. I _know_ he's using me. And I'm going to let him. As long as Snow keeps asking I will keep saying yes. As long as he keeps taking things I will keep letting him.

 

I'll never just give him anything, though. I'll never tug him into my arms when he starts weeping.

 

Because I'm a coward.

 

But I'll let him take as much as he wants from me.

 

Because I'm weak.

 

He's not gotten up yet. I don't know why he hasn't. It feels like it's been hours but that might just be because I'm waiting for him to get up and leave, it's probably only been seconds.

 

His grip on my shirt loosens and I think he's about to go.

 

He doesn't. He just relaxes his hand and his fingers splay out across my back.

 

He's still not moving.

 

Every moment that passes I start thinking he isn't going to. Then every time I let myself think that I'm sure he will.

 

This is too much.

 

I need to end it. I don't want it to end but after three years of being hopelessly in love with Snow, I really shouldn't encourage him instilling this kind of false hope in me.

 

I let my hand move down and wrap around his wrist, removing the hand on my hip, even though it pains me to do so.

 

He jumps slightly at the contact. Did he think I was asleep?

 

I get up, perching on the side of the bed and allowing myself to chance a glance over at Snow.

 

He's very red. At least I can enjoy that. He blinks sleepily up at me. He offers me a small smile that I do not return, because, how can I?

 

I select my uniform for the day and make for the bathroom to change.

 

"Baz." Snow stops me just as my hand reaches the doorknob. I glance over my shoulder at him. "Thank you." He says with a small yawn as he stretches out.

 

I don't say anything. I'm not sure my voice would even work properly while I'm looking at Snow lounging on my bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a lot longer and lil later than intended. It kinda underwent a last-minute plot alteration after a comment on a possible plot point by BasicBathsheba that I quite liked. So, that's basically what the second half of this chapter is, direct your compliments Re: that plot point, to her.
> 
> Anyways enjoy!
> 
> Also, anyone, who is of the opinion I need to hurry this the fuck along, feel free to mention it? Idk I'm starting to feel like it's dragging? So if you concur say so. As noted above, I do listen to the stuff ya'll say. (Within reason)

**Simon**

When Baz has nightmares, he doesn't wake up sobbing and sweating like I do. He wakes with a gasp and clutches his pillow while he tries to steady his breathing. Sometimes he doesn't even do that, he just gets up and disappears out the door and into the night. He's been doing a lot more of that this year.

 

But it always starts like this. I've shared a room with Baz for over seven years, I know what his breathing sounds like better than my own at this point. I know what it means when it gets shallow like this.

 

The clock reads 2 am when I hear the tell-tale gasp and Baz sits bolt upright.

 

If I wasn't expecting it that would have scared the shit out of me.

 

I'm watching him and he looks over at me for the briefest of moments. It's dark, I wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't turned his head. I think he can see me though because he averts his eyes immediately. Then he cards a hand through his hair, pushing it back out of his eyes and he lets himself fall back into the pillows.

 

I consider just leaving it. Letting Baz suffer through the night or just go and calm himself down outside, however, he does that.

 

I feel like I owe him something though. Over the past fortnight, I've had three more nightmares and he doesn't even wait for me to ask anymore, he just tugs back the edge of his blanket and lets me curl up beside him.

 

He never makes me ask anymore. So, I don't ask this time either.

 

I just get up and cross the space between our beds and lay down beside him.

 

He's on his back tonight, so I'm forced to not curl up unless I want to be partially on top of him. He never sleeps on his back when I'm there, he's always on his side and looking away from me.

 

He inclines his head towards me as I crawl under the covers. "I'm fine, Snow." He doesn't sound fine; his breathing is still uneven and too frequent.

 

"Good." I just nod, because I could deny it and say I know he's not, but I think that would be the opposite of comforting. It'd probably just piss him off. Pissing Baz off is usually pretty high on my to-do list, just not tonight. Not any nights. Not anymore.

 

I place my head on his shoulder and let a hand fall across his bicep. I wonder momentarily if Baz will grab at me and hold me the way he does with his pillow after nightmares. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that though, but I don't hate it as much as I should. That worries me.

 

He doesn't say anything, and I can't see his face right now. Leaning on Baz's shoulder is one thing. Leaning on it and looking up at him just feels closer than enemies should be. Really this is probably closer than enemies should be.

 

Baz hasn't tossed me out yet though, so he mustn't mind too much that I'm touching him.

 

He doesn't mind after my nightmares. He just lets me rest a hand on his waist or his arm or his shoulder. He did smack me away once but that was because I tried to cool my hand on his neck. He's not swatted at me any other time, so I don't think he minds.

 

He never reciprocates, so I doubt he likes it.

 

I just don't think he minds.

 

**Baz**

I consider telling Snow to get away from me. Telling him, that I'm not as pathetic as he is so I don't need his comfort.

 

I do need it though.

 

I need the weight of his head on my shoulder, the brush of his curls against my jaw and the soft touch of his hand on my arm.

 

On nights like these, when I wake up after dreaming I'm in that damnable coffin again, everything is too dark and too cold and too dead. The only thing I could do to stop myself getting dragged back into that memory was to lay here with my eyes open.

 

The coffin was dark even when I had my eyes open. Here isn't so bad though, even when the curtains are closed some of the light of the night sky still pokes through and my vampiric vision lets me see. I'd sometimes look at Snow, if he was still asleep, but these were never times for indulgence, so the ceiling or the wall would suffice. I just needed to be able to see something.

 

I can never get back to sleep though. The second I close my eyes, and everything goes dark it feels exactly like I'm back and it startles me back awake. On nights like this, I wander the grounds and sometimes feed, because I can't sleep.

 

Snow's here now though.

 

I should tell him to go.

 

But I can close my eyes while he’s here.

 

Because he's not cold. He's warmer than the pile of blankets I sleep under.

 

And because he's so very alive. I can hear him breathing and the rest of his body mimics the rise and fall of his chest ever so slightly.

 

So, I close my eyes. Because everything's not so cold and dead anymore, so the darkness doesn't worry me. It doesn't feel like I'm trapped in a coffin. It couldn't with Snow lying beside me.

 

I want to lean into him. I don't. I can't. But I want to.

 

I listen to his breathing instead and try to mimic the pattern of it.

 

I don't know why he’s doing this. Why he’s in bed with me again. Maybe he thinks it will help me because for some reason crawling into bed with me helps _him._

 

I don’t think I’ll ever understand why he gets into bed with me. I don’t know how it helps, just that it does.

 

I understand how he helps me. Among other things, just having the boy I love so close, knowing he's safe and that nothing can hurt him, that's a comfort to me in itself. _He_ is a comfort to me, despite being the fucking bane of my existence.

 

I don't understand how I help him, though. I'm not warm like he is. I'm not alive like he is. He's not in love with me like I am with him.

 

It makes no sense.

 

It's not the first time I fall asleep trying to riddle out Simon Snow, but it is the first where I wake up with a mouth full of bronze curls. Well, not a mouth full, but a few wisps, which is still too many. I gingerly reach up and tug them away, careful not to disturb Snow too much.

 

We've not moved much since last night. He's still on my shoulder, his hand on my arm but he's pressed up against me now and being as used to sleeping in a ball as he is he's thrown one leg over me.

 

He's not awake yet, so I don't panic and leave like I did that second morning. Neither of us has ever really stayed in after waking up beside the other. Not after that second morning.

 

But I like this.

 

I like _him._

 

And he hates me.

 

So, I'll just stay a while.

 

And I do. I stay there until it's nearly 6 am and I know Snow will be waking up soon for breakfast.

 

I need to get up before he wakes up, but I can't help myself. If I have to go anyway I might as well chance it.

 

I run a hand through Snow's hair, from the curls perched on top and how they spring up between my fingers and down to the short crop at the back of his head. It's so soft. I already knew that of course, I fell asleep with it tickling my face last night.

 

I hesitate a moment, considering doing it again.

 

Just as I gather the force of will to walk away I hear a soft. "Baz."

 

I snatch my hand back. "What?"

 

I hear a soft yawn from Snow, I've heard it many times by now. It's loud and obnoxious and absolutely adorable just like everything about him. "What are you doing?"

 

"Getting your unwashed hair out of my mouth, Snow." I snap at him, giving the leg he's got strewn across me a pointed poke.

 

He retracts his leg, curling it under him as he sits up. He's a little pink when he turns to face me, but he looks far too proud of himself when he turns to me and says, "Mouthbreather. Wouldn’t be in there if you kept your trap shut for once."

 

"You call _me_ that, but the drool on my shirt says you're the mouthbreather," I say tugging at the fabric just above where Snow's head had been resting. The wet fabric sticks to my skin for a moment before coming free. I give him a look that conveys a lot more disgust than I actually feel. Granted, a little of that disgust is genuine. Thank snakes I take morning showers.

 

Snow turns impossibly redder. I think he thought he had me there.

 

When he gets up every fibre of my being wants to pull him back into me, but I just let him go.

 

**Simon**

Baz wakes with a gasp again, sitting up in bed.

 

It does startle me this time. I didn’t hear the change in his breathing this time, that barely noticeable transition to shallow breaths that always precedes him startline awake. I can hear it now though. Shaky, laboured breathing as Baz sits there runs a hand through his hair.

 

I should stay put this time. He nearly made me go off in class today, in the middle of elocution. They weren't overly effective jabs and sneers, there were just more of them than usual. I'm not sure what I did to piss him off, (besides existing of course) but he was a lot more antagonistic today. Such a villain.

 

He doesn't look like a villain now though. Hands in his hair, knees pulled to his chest and not moving.

 

He never seems like a villain when he has nightmares. He doesn't seem like it when I have them either.

 

I wonder if perhaps dealing with my nightmares have made Baz's worse, because he's been getting them a bit more frequently than he used to. Not a frequently as I do, never more than once a week. But more frequently than he used to.

 

I usually go get into bed with him. I always think he'll tell me to piss off, but he never does. I'm not sure why. He doesn't have an evil monster that can drag him away at any time. I don't see how my presence in his bed helps at all.

 

Tonight, I tell myself I won’t go to him though.

 

He slowly gets up.

 

I think he's going out again. It's what he used to do before he'd curl up with me.

 

"Wait." I'm speaking before I even properly comprehend it.

 

I don't need to see him to know he's got an eyebrow arched when he says. "What?"

 

"You know what." I grow out at him. Because he does, and he can't make me say it. I won’t say it if he tries to make me.

 

"Do I?"

 

I get up and walk over to him, pushing him back into bed.

 

He stops for a minute and I think he might fight me on this. But he just sighs and lays back down, rolling over to face away from me as he so often prefers.

 

I shouldn't be doing this. I should be mad at him for earlier today.

 

This is never like how we are in the day though, is it?

 

Apparently, if we both just keep our mouths shut we get along fine. Or more than fine I suppose this would qualify as.

 

So, I lay down beside him and fight to keep my eyes open. Because I can’t fall back asleep before I’m sure he has and for once it’s not because I think he’ll try to kill me the second I’m out. Now it’s because I want to make sure he’s alright.

 

I don’t dwell on that. This situation has given me a whole slew of new things not to think about. That’s on my new list of things not to think about.

 

It’s hard to stay awake though. It’s so easy to fall asleep beside Baz. It’s easier to fall asleep in his bed than my own.

 

That’s number one on my list.

 

**Baz**

I wanted to see how far I could push him.

 

Apparently, the answer is quite far.

 

I was horrible to him today. I'm horrible to him every day. Today was worse than usual though.

 

He still got into bed with me though. He _more_ than got into bed with me. He pushed me back into it and all but told me to stay when I tried to go. All I had to do was change my breathing a little.

 

I thought he wasn't going to. I thought he'd let me leave. He stopped me though. I'm glad he did but I'm no closer to understanding why.

 

I want to understand why Simon Snow keeps crawling into bed with me. At least, that's what I like to tell myself.

 

In reality, I'm almost certain it's because of his ridiculous hero complex. I helped him (barely, he was the one who asked to join me) and now he's returning the favour. It's a real Occam’s razor solution I think.

 

So, I've been pushing him. Being meaner than usual and seeing if he'll still help.

 

He always does.

 

I love him a little more each time he does that.

 

I hate me a little more each time he does that.

 

Even if it is just because of his hero complex I like having him beside me. I like having him rest his head on me and drape some of his limbs over me. I even like the painful way his knees still dig into the small of my back.

 

So, I keep getting him to come back.

 

I can’t just ask.

 

So, I pretend.

 

I breathe a little harder and before I can even glance over at him he’s beside me.

 

Not too often. Never more than once a week or he’d become suspicious and Merlin knows Snow is suspicious enough of me already.

 

Just often enough that my bed sheets still smell like him even after he’s gone.

 

Often enough for that. But not often enough for me.

 

This will never be often enough for me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I had something to say here. I also feel inclined to say something here. I can't for the life of me remember what it was though. So this might get something legit edited in later but IDK?  
> Regardless, happy reading fam!

**Baz**

I never thought this would happen, but apparently sharing a bed with Simon Snow has become a regular occurrence in my life. Two, sometimes three times a week he ends up crawling into my bed. Because he had a nightmare or because I had a nightmare, or because I faked a nightmare.

 

I don't even make him ask anymore after one of his nightmares. I should, but if I keep making him ask I don't know what I'd do if he didn't one day. Would I invite him over? I like to think I have enough restraint to avoid that, but if there's one thing I do over and over again it's disappoint myself when it comes to Simon Snow.

 

So now whenever he wakes up, screaming, sobbing, panting or some mix of the three, I just tug the edge of my blankets back and roll over to face away from him.

 

He catches me on my back sometimes when it's not his nightmares we're dealing with. I like those nights. I feel closer to him on those nights.

 

I should never have let him touch me that second night. It set a dangerous precedent because now he always does it and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to bring myself to stop him.

 

I'm not sure why he's always touching me. I'm not sure I even _want_ to know why. It's easier if I just lay there and enjoy it.

 

So, this is our routine now. Snow wakes up a mess, crawls into bed with me and calms down.

 

Except tonight apparently.

 

Tonight, he isn't calming down.

 

I've been listening to sniffling and muffled sobs for the past hour. I'm going to have to spell my pillowcase clean in the morning. I don't like spelling it clean, his scent fades faster when I do. So, I usually just don't, even though he drools all over it. I draw the line at having a pillow drenched in snot and tears, though.

 

He's still sobbing, and I can feel the hand he's got on my waist shaking slightly.

 

I know I promised myself I'd never give Snow an inch when it comes to this, but really, I've already given him several.

 

It's late and I'm tired and he's right there. One more concession won’t hurt so much.

 

So, I roll over to face him.

 

He's a mess. He flinches back slightly when I move, and he snatches his hand back from my waist. I can see his lip quivering slightly and the puffiness around his eyes and it breaks my heart.

 

"I- S-sorry, I just, I-" He's blubbering again and the way his voice cracks only makes it worse than usual.

 

I'm almost entirely sure he thinks I'm going to kick him out.

 

I should kick him out, that would be the sensible thing to do. Send him out of my bed, out of our room and roll back over so I can get some much-needed rest.

 

But he lays down next to me when I have nightmares. And he's always touching me. And he's hurting right now. And I love him.

 

"Shut up." I hiss.

 

I don't kick him out. Instead, I slide an arm around his back and tug him into me.

 

I lay my head on my hand, so Snow can rest his head on my folded arm and tuck himself under my chin.

 

He's hesitant at first and I immediately regret my choice. The second I start to back off though, he gives in, shuffling a little closer till I can feel his knees digging into my stomach and his calves press against the tops of my thighs. He still sleeps curled up and now I've basically wrapped myself around him.

 

So now we're cuddling I suppose. Properly cuddling.

 

My heart is beating a mile a minute and I can only hope that Snow is too distraught to notice, particularly when his head is pressed against my chest.

 

I feel shaking fingers grab at the collar of my pyjamas and wrap the fabric tightly around them. So, I remove my hand from where it's pressed into his back and let it trail through his curls, hopefully offering some semblance of comfort.

 

Not too much comfort, though.

 

I could coo to him and murmur that everything would be alright or that I'd look after him.

 

I can’t though.

 

I can barely pass off holding him to me as an attempt to shut him up. Anything more than that would almost definitely let the cat out of the bag regarding how I really feel about him. So, I stay silent.

 

I can feel tears slowly soak through the front of my shirt. (Great, now I need to clean that too.) He is settling down though. It's slow going but little by little his sobs subside.

 

"Baz." He says quietly, but his voice is steady this time at least.

 

I consider telling him to shut up. I don't. I just let my fingers come to rest against his scalp, curls springing up between them. "What?"

 

"Thank you." I hear the words when he murmurs them, but I feel them too as his breath slips in between the buttons of my shirt and caresses the skin underneath.

 

"Don't mention it. Ever."

 

He laughs at that, it's weak and a little broken, but it's genuine. "I won’t."

 

And then he lets one hand unwrap itself from around my shirt and he slips it around my middle.

 

I'm almost entirely sure it's the worst idea I've ever had, but I go back to tracing my fingers through his hair.

 

 

**Simon**

I'm not sure what's happening right now. The thing is, I don't really need to know what's happening to know I don't want it to stop.

 

Baz has tucked himself around me and despite the fact that he's my enemy and he despises me, and he's tried to kill me, somehow, it's exactly what I need.

 

I think this changes things though.

 

 It was easy when he would just face away and ignore me, so I could just lay here and calm down, knowing that if The Humdrum dragged me off, Baz would get dragged off too.

 

It's not like thinking about Penny getting pulled away with me, that makes me scared. It makes me not want to touch her, so she can't get hurt. Penny thinks I'm being ridiculous and only touches me more.

 

"I'm not letting you do this alone, Simon." She'd say linking her arm with mine. Agatha was never particularly happy about that, but it helped comfort me a little.

 

I wonder how Agatha would feel about this. Then I immediately stop wondering because this isn't like that. Or maybe it's exactly like that because it means absolutely nothing when Penny grabs my arm. Just like it means nothing when I lay down with Baz.

 

If anything, it means less than nothing.

 

I can do this because I don't care if Baz gets transported off to The Humdrum with me and dies. That just solves another problem I'm going to have to deal with one day, killing Baz. This keeps me safer.

 

Baz isn't just letting me place an arm on his shoulder or curl up beside him anymore, though. He's actively, willingly and without prompting trying to comfort me.

 

I tell myself it's just because he wanted me to shut up. I have to tell myself that. If I don't suddenly it's not just me putting Baz's life in danger. Suddenly it's me putting Baz's life in danger while he's trying to help me.

 

The thought makes my stomach turn and I'm not sure if it's at the thought of Baz helping me or at the thought of him dying because of it.

 

I try not to think about that.

 

I remind myself this is Baz and he's my enemy and he's going to kill me, and I don't care if he dies.

 

Except I do.

 

I really do.

 

I feel safe right now. I don't know how I feel safe with Baz of all people wrapped around me, but I do.

 

And he is helping me. Even if it's only to shut me up he's still doing it.

 

He's not just another problem I have to deal with.

 

I don't want him to die.

 

I really don't want him to die because of me. I don't know what I'm going to do about that when the tensions between the old families and The Mage inevitably boil over. I know what I'm going to do about it now though.

 

I'm going to have to put a stop to this.

 

It's been a while since I stopped crying, but his hand is still parting my curls. I can feel his nails graze softly against my scalp but it's feather light and more relaxing than anything about Baz has a right to be.

 

He's warmer now, where I've been touching him. He's still cool enough that wherever his skin meets mine it dissipates some of the flush I've worked up.

 

I _am_ going to have to put a stop to this.

 

Just not tonight.

 

I'll allow myself tonight.

 

It's the last night I'll allow myself, so I might as well enjoy it.

 

I snuggle a little closer to him. He draws in a sharp breath and his hand pauses in my hair for a moment. It's only for a moment, but I feel the dread settle in. He gives an exasperated sigh but resumes the motions of carding his hand through my hair. As quickly as it came the dread vanishes and is replaced a small flutter in my chest.

 

I pointedly ignore that feeling.


	5. Chapter 5

**Baz**

Simon has another nightmare not long after the last. I wake up to the sound of soft sobbing but it's far more distant than it should be, and I can't feel his weight in bed beside me.

 

It must've just started.

 

So, I wait.

 

One minute passes.

 

Then two.

 

Then five.

 

I'm beginning to think he simply isn't going to join me.

 

Crowley, it's because I held him last time, isn't it? I shouldn't have. I knew it was a bad idea.

 

Would he come back if I told him I wouldn't do it again?

 

No.

 

I'm not doing that. If Snow wants to stay in his own bed I'm not going to put up a fight.

 

Then another broken sniffle cuts through the silent night air.

 

I won’t put up a fight but I need to try something.

 

I roll over so I'm facing him. He looks as much a mess as he did on that first night. Sitting up, back against the wall, knees pulled to his chest, pillow held tightly in his grip and his face pressed into it. I think maybe he's trying to keep quiet again.

 

"Snow?" I say across the few feet between our beds.

 

He looks up at me from his pillow. "I'll be quiet." Is all he says.

 

Of course.

 

Of fucking course. The one good thing that happens between me and Snow and I had to fuck it up by letting my feelings get in the way. I should never have touched him. He's going to keep us both awake all night whenever he has a nightmare from now on.

 

I don't say any of that though, I just mutter. "Good." And roll over to face away from him.

 

To his credit, he does try to be quiet. To mine, I try to ignore him.

 

Both of us are failing rather miserably.

 

I manage all of another five minutes before I'm rolling back over to face him. "Snow, either shut up or get over here."

 

He doesn't look up this time, he just shakes his head and mutters out. "I can't."

 

"Why not?" I swallow and brace myself for him to tell me he's realised my feelings for them and he doesn't reciprocate, and he's disgusted by the thought of sharing a bed with me for another second.

 

"I don't want you to die, Baz."

 

"What?"

 

I can't quite believe my ears. That was so far from what I was expecting. So far from what I'd ever expected to come out of Snow's mouth. Really though, most of this situation is far from what I'd ever expected things between me and Snow to be like.

 

He says it again though. "I don't want you to die."

 

I don't know what to do with that. So, I do what I always do when I don't know what to do. I mock him. "That's going to be a problem given you're going to have to try to kill me someday."

 

"No, I'm not."

 

"You have to."

 

“No, I don’t.” The smell of smoke slowly starts to fill the room as he says that. Is he going to go off? Over this? Over me?

 

“Yes, you do.”

 

"No." There's anger in his voice for a moment but then the smoke smell dissipates, and he lets out a choked. "No."

 

It's a rarity. A situation with Snow I can't mock or fight my way out of. Probably because for once he's not fighting me.

 

It might be because I'm at a loss for what to do. Or because his admission is tugging at my chest in a way that is simultaneously awful and addictive. Or because he just sounds so defeated. But I let it go.

 

"Come on." I nudge my head towards the bed below me, hoping he gets the message.

 

He doesn't. "What?"

 

I just pat the sheets beside me and immediately feel incredibly stupid.

 

"Baz, I told you, I don't want you to die."

 

I frown at him, though I'm entirely sure I can't see it. "Okay, glad we cleared that up. Now come here."

 

I should stop, I shouldn't push him. But I want him here and it seems like he wants to be here too.

 

"Baz, I can't-" His voice breaks again around the words.

 

"Snow, if there's one thing you've proven over and over it's that you definitely can."

 

He shakes his head. "I can't- The Humdrum... It can summon me." He says the words slowly, between a series of shaky breaths and the words catch in his throat even more than they usually do. "And anyone I'm touching."

 

And then it all clicks into place. Snow was sleeping with me because he's worried The Humdrum will drag him off. He as good as just admitted it was because he wanted me to die.

 

I'm hurt and rather annoyed. I thought I was supposed to be the evil, manipulative bastard between the two of us. I guess not.

 

"You were trying to get me killed?" I snap at him.

 

"No... Yes... Kind of." He can't seem to make up his mind. "I just didn't want to die alone, and I didn't want to have anyone I care about to die with me." It's Snow's most stable sentence of the night, maybe even his life. It makes me wonder how long he's been dwelling on this.

 

The implications of his words stop me though. Simon Snow cares about me? That is basically what he just said. And I know that feeling. The feeling of being terrified you’re going to end up stuck somewhere unfamiliar, where you have no control, where you’re completely alone, and you know you’re going to die there. I felt little but that for six weeks earlier this year.

 

"Snow." I say. He doesn't look up, so I say it again with a little more emphasis. "Snow."

 

"What?" He looks up at me.

 

I pick up my wand from my bedside table and tuck it into the sleeve of my pyjama shirt. It's a loose fit but as long as I don't tilt my sleeve downwards it won’t fall out.

 

He smiles slightly but he just shakes his head again. "Your wand won’t be any use, you can't use magic near The Humdrum."

 

"Luckily my intellect can be applied to things beyond magic."

 

_Like protecting you_. I don't say it. I don't even let myself think it too loudly. If anything, I hope Snow interprets my words as _like protecting myself._ He probably will, he's dense like that.

 

He's still smiling at me and he's not crying so much anymore. He probably doesn't need me so much right now. I still want him here though. He's just staring at me across the space between us, which there is still far too much of.

 

I want to go to him.

 

I want to cross the room and take him in my arms and tell him everything will be alright.

 

I almost do.

 

But he gets up and walks over to me first.

 

Good, I'd never have lived that down otherwise.

 

I'm still sitting up so when he perches on the side of the bed he wraps his arms around my torso and pushes me back down into bed. It's not as rough as when he tried to stop me from leaving after my 'nightmare' it's softer and slower, more like he's lowering me down than anything.

 

 I'm on my back again. He didn't give me a chance to roll over. He's basically laying on top of me, his head is on my chest and his curls brush against my neck.

 

I'm still not entirely sure if he wants me to hold him as well anymore. I try it anyway though. I slowly encircle his waist, giving him a chance to push me away if he wants to.

 

He doesn't.

 

He just lets out a contented little sigh.

 

It’s like a punch to the gut.

 

**Simon**

I don't know why Baz is doing this.

 

I gave him an out. He could have just forgotten all this, and we could have just gone back to being enemies. We could have pretended this didn't happen.

 

He didn't though.

 

He wasn't nice about it, Baz is never nice about anything. But I think it was a nice as he can manage.

 

So here we are. I'm still laying on his chest, properly this time, my torso is flush against his and my arms are around the back of his neck. I'd nearly fallen asleep with them under him last night, but they quickly started to go numb under our combined weight.

 

"Baz, lift up, I can't feel my arms." I'd muttered to him.

 

I could practically hear him rolling his eyes in the darkness. "It would be easier without an idiot on top of me." He growled back but he let go of me and propped himself up on his elbows.

 

"Come on Baz, all that time at football training and no upper body strength?" I taunted him back.

 

I was fine by this point, my nightmare a distant memory. I considered going back to my own bed because I didn’t really need to be here anymore and I was certain Baz knew it too. I didn't though, I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck and he let us fall back into the mattress.

 

"Football isn't about upper body strength, Snow, you'd know that if you were good enough to make the team." He said, but the malice of it was interrupted by a soft yawn. That made me smile, not quite as much as him letting his hands come to rest on my back made me smile though.

 

"Fuck off, Baz." I said because that's always what I say when I've lost one of our arguments.

 

He chuckled a little and it was the last we spoke before falling asleep.

 

Which brings us to now.

 

The soft glow of sunrise muted by the curtains, falling softly across his features and casting shadows across the sharp lines of his face.

 

I fold my arms one on top of the other on his chest and prop my chin up on them, so I can just look at him for a minute.

 

So, I can look at him without his walls and his sneers and his biting wit.

 

He's damn near perfect.

 

I want to run my fingers across his jaw and his lips and his cheekbones.

 

I want this. Whatever this is.

 

I want _him._

 

The latter two are a bit of a long shot. Given our history. Also given our present. It's not like this has had any real effect on our relationship at all. We still fight and bicker and torment each other before the lights go out.

 

No. Those last two are probably never going to happen. Not really.

 

The first though? Maybe I'll give myself that.

 

I take an arm out from under my head and let it move to his face. Lightly, softly, slowly, I run a finger down his jaw, from ear to chin. His skin is so soft, so smooth. Not like mine which is rough and dotted with moles and freckles. I've never really felt insecure about all that till now. Till I felt what Baz's skin feels like without putting a dent in it with my knuckles.

 

He doesn't stir so I trace my fingertips down his cheek.

 

Still nothing. So, I cup under his chin and trace the outline of his lips, relishing the way the curve of my thumb seems to align perfectly with his cupid’s bow.

 

I think I might want to kiss him. I won’t. If I ever kiss Baz Pitch it'll be like every other time I attack him, he'll be awake and able to defend himself.

 

I'd like to kiss him though.

 

Merlin and Morgana, when did this happen?

 

It should be a startling realisation, having feelings for Baz. But it's not. I think the past month of this has allowed me to slide seamlessly into it. Everything about this has just felt right. This feels right.

 

I'm not sure what to do about that. I’m going to have to do something though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully should have the next chapter up tomorrow. I intend to. But it's not cooperating. So??? Might be more smut. Idk we'll see.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp this is a lot longer than it was supposed to be and quite possibly the softest load of crap I've ever written. 
> 
> Enjoy I guess?

**Baz**

Honestly, I'm dreading going to back to our room tonight, so I take my time when I hunt.

 

I woke up this morning to the sensation of Snow's calloused fingertips trailing across my face. I think he was only doing it because he thought I was asleep. I didn't open my eyes until I felt his fingers brush across my neck and I was half sure he was going to choke the life out of me.

 

He didn't.

 

He froze, giving me this soft sort of smile, it was almost sheepish, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. Which he had I suppose. Enemies don't stroke each other's faces while they're asleep. They can spend seven years thinking about it, but they don't actually do it.

 

I should have smacked his hand away. I should have tossed him off me and stormed out. I didn't though, I fucking froze as well. Because Snow's fingertips were resting at the base of my neck. Because he was giving me that stupid soft smile. Because he was gazing up at me from between stubby lashes and half closed eyes as he laid on my chest with sunlight catching on his curls. He looked unreasonably fucking beautiful.

 

So I didn't fight him. He seemed to take that as some kind approval because he brought his hand back up and traced along my jaw, muttering a soft. "Morning."

 

I just swallowed, almost entirely sure that I was still asleep and this was some kind of dream. I didn't say anything, I just stared at him, forcing my face into a scowl.

 

He hesitated a moment, then rolled his eyes and got up, saying something about breakfast.

 

I'm not entirely sure what this morning was. I'm doing my best to avoid it though. I still had to see Snow in classes, but we have an unspoken agreement by this point that anything that happens in our room stays out of the rest of our lives. So that was exactly the same as always.

 

It's late by now though. Snow should be in bed and asleep. So I chance it and return to our room.

 

Snow isn't in bed and asleep. He is, in fact, neither of those things.

 

He's in _my_ bed, curled up on his side facing the door and he seems to be waiting for me.

 

"Another nightmare?" I ask, kicking the door closed behind me and shrugging off my blazer.

 

He usually doesn't have them consecutively. I almost feel guilty for not being here this time.

 

When he replies there's no hint of a sob in his voice though. "Nope."

 

"What?" I ask, confusion, hope, happiness and irritation fighting for dominance within me and me fighting to keep them all out of my voice. "What are you doing in my bed then?"

 

He shrugs. "Preventative measures?"

 

I frown at him, gathering my clothes so I can change. "Do you even know what those words mean?"

 

"Yes."

 

I don't know what to do about that. So I don't do anything. I just head into the bathroom and change for bed, all too aware that Snow is laying in my bed and waiting for me.

 

What?

 

How did this happen?

 

Why is this happening?

 

Just... What?

 

I spend a little longer in the bathroom than necessary, straightening out my pyjamas, running my hands through my hair and trying to figure out if I want it slicked back or not.

 

Does Snow like it slicked back?

 

It doesn't matter, it needs to be loose like it was when I came in here or he'll know what I'm doing.

 

What if he likes it slicked back though?

 

I spend longer than I'd like deliberating, but the side of me that would prefer to keep my infatuation with him a secret wins out and I run a hand through it tousling it out into the windswept mess it was in when I entered our room.

 

When I renter our room Snow looks over at me but he doesn't say anything, thank snakes.

 

I walk over to my bed and get in beside him. Snow unfurls himself slightly to make more room for me. I face away from him like I usually do. I don't know if he's expecting me to hold him, but I can barely get away with that when he has nightmares and he's not having one right now, so I won't attempt it.

 

I'm almost surprised when I feel a warm arm wrap around my chest as Snow tugs me back into his. He's apparently abandoned sleeping in a knot in favour of touching me because nearly every part of our bodies are pressed together.

 

Simon Snow is spooning me.

 

Crowley, he's so warm.

 

The arm around me isn't tight, he's holding me loosely, so I can throw him off if I want to.

 

I don't want to.

 

I should.

 

But I really don't want to.

 

Because Simon Snow is fucking spooning me.

 

I can't quite decide if him waking up with morning wood would be the best or worst case scenario here.

 

I try not to dwell on it and instead directing my focus to trying to calm my racing heart rate.

 

**Simon**

Baz didn't throw me out the first time I got into his bed without having had a nightmare. So I did it again and he let me stay again. And again. And again. So now I sleep with him every night.

 

It's easier this way. Now when I wake up in a sweat and panicking, he just rolls over and wraps his arms around me. Sometimes he runs his hand through my hair or rubs circles on my back.

 

He's not some kind of cure-all for nightmares. I still get them. It's just nice to have him there when I wake up.

 

He still gets nightmares too, just a little less frequently than when we slept separately. I'm not sure why. It's been about a fortnight by now and he's only had one.

 

I shouldn't like those nights, where one of us wakes up scared and hurting. I don't like them. Not really. What I like are the mornings that come after. Because when one of us has a bad dream we end up wrapped up in each other. Otherwise, he just spends all night on his side facing away from me. He lets me cuddle up to him, but he never reciprocates like he does when I have nightmares. That was a point that took us a while to reach though, so I have a bit of hope that maybe we'll get there with this too.

 

I'm still not entirely sure what to do about these new found feelings I have for him, but this is enough for now.

 

We never talk, not really. Sometimes I say good morning to him but he never responds. Other than that it's just the occasional jab at each other.

 

But I can't sleep tonight. And I'm getting bored. And I'm pretty sure Baz is awake too.

 

So I check. "Baz." I prompt the boy I've still got my arms around.

 

His response is immediate. "What Snow?"

 

"What are your nightmares about?"

 

"None of your business."

 

"I told you about mine."

 

I hear him sigh and when he shakes his head his hair brushes back and forth against my face. "You did, but I didn't ask now did I, Snow?"

 

"So I still told you?"

 

"So I'm not telling you." He mocks my words back to me. I don't know what I expected.

 

I consider giving up, I do, for a few moments. The second Baz relaxes again though, I press him. "Don't you want to, I don't know, talk about it?"

 

"No."

 

I take my turn to sigh and I remove my arm from his middle, though it feels like I'm punishing myself more than Baz with that. I doubt he cares if I'm not holding him.

 

He's quiet for a moment then I hear a soft intake of breath. "Do you want to talk about yours?"

 

No. Not with Baz. Not now. Not ever.

 

Except I do.

 

"Yes."

 

I'm surprised when he doesn't mock me or snap at me. He just rolls over so he's facing me and shuffle away a little so we're not touching anymore.

 

"Okay." He says, resting his head on his hand. He's his arm parallel to his body now though, not sticking out like when he lets me rest my head on it. "Go ahead."

 

It's slow to start, trying to find the words and explain to Baz what happened. I tell him about The Humdrum dragging me and Penny off and about how we ended up with blood and yellow liquid seeping out of our skin. He looks a little disgusted when I get to that part.

 

 I can't make him out in detail, but my eyes are adjusted to the dark and he's close enough that I can see his features. The outline of his lips, the crook where I broke his nose, the arch of his eyebrow every so often. I can see his eyes too but in the dark they don't look deep water grey they look black. They're just as easy to get lost in, though.

 

I don't tell him that The Humdrum looks exactly like me. I don't tell him that I grew wings and flew off. I tell him everything else though.

 

"Better?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

 

"Yeah, I think so."

 

He nods in response and for a second I think he might roll back over and I don't want him to.

 

"You sure you don't want to talk about yours?"

 

"Positive."

 

"It might help."

 

"It won't."

 

"Baz." I groan at him.

 

"Snow." He's as impassive as ever.

 

"You should try."

 

He gives a low sigh and I think he's about to roll over and that I've failed. He doesn't though. "At the beginning of the year, I was kidnapped."

 

"What?" I had not been expecting that. "By who? Why? Are you okay?"

 

He doesn't look impressed. "I don't know, I don't know and yes, I'm fine." He stops after that, so I push him again.

 

"And...?"

 

I don't need more light in here to see the way he pointed looks away from me. "They kept me in a coffin for six weeks." He shrugs. Like it means nothing.

 

It's not fucking nothing though.

 

"Because you're a vampire?" I say because otherwise, I’m entirely sure I’m just going to get stuck in another loop of asking him if he’s okay and him saying he is.

 

"I never said that."

 

"So that's why you were late for the start of term?"

 

He just nods.

 

Merlin and Morgana, I'm an asshole.

 

"I thought you were plotting," I say and he quirks an eyebrow at me. "Crowley, I'm a git. I near enough tore Watford apart trying to figure out what you were up to."

 

He rolls his eyes but I'm close enough to see the way the edge of his lip quirks up for a moment before he gets his face under control. "Of course you did, you absolute nightmare."

 

"I am sorry though, that must have been horrible."

 

He shrugs. "It was." He doesn't sound like it was but Baz has always been good at hiding these things.

 

And for some reason, I don't want this to end. So I tell him everything thing. Actually everything this time. The fact that The Humdrum has my face and that fucking ball Penny had to throw to get us out of there and the bit where I grew wings. He's confused at first and more than a little disbelieving.

 

"Are you trying to fuck with me, Snow?" He asks. "It's not working."

 

"I'm not, ask Penny."

 

And apparently, me telling him the rest of my story causes him to tell me his. It might just be because he's trying to one-up me in the category of 'worst kidnapping by a magical creature' but I don't think so.

 

He tells me that it was numpties. I do admittedly have a bit of a chuckle at that, he's a little put out by it but I place my hand on his side and let my fingertips trace up and down it. Somehow that coaxes him out of his annoyance. He tells me about being saved by his Aunt Fiona and his injured leg and how he laid there for weeks feeling himself slip away.

 

"You're not dead, Baz." I mutter at him the moment he alludes to it.

 

He scoffs. "Make up your mind, Snow, do you think I'm a vampire or not?"

 

"You are a vampire. You're not dead though."

 

"You can't have it both ways."

 

"Yes I can, because it's the truth."

 

Somehow despite weeks of what is effectively cuddling, this is so much more intimate than anything we've done yet.

 

We're just laying here speaking but we're close, so close. I can feel his breath mingling with mine, I can taste it on my tongue even when he's not speaking. I think maybe he's right about me being a mouth breather. I don't mind right now though because I can breathe him in. Every word, every breath that comes out of him mouth tinged with the scent of cedar and bergamot and the spearmint toothpaste he used before going to bed. I breathe it all in. It should be gross, the idea of doing that, but for some reason, it's just not.

 

We've moved onto different things now. Away from nightmares and monsters.

 

I'm still trailing my hand up and down his side while he talks. I'm not sure what I'm doing. I'm not sure how to do this. How to let him know I want this because I've never been good with words.

 

I've been trying to figure out what I did when it was Agatha I was trying to woo. I don't think I did anything though. I think she just decided one day that she'd give me a chance.

 

I'm transparent, I know that.

 

Agatha knew I liked her. She's beautiful and amazing and kind, how could she not know? How could I be expected not to like her?

 

How can Baz not know? He's all those things and more, save maybe the kindness. How does he not just assume everyone who meets him immediately falls head over heels? He's not exactly humble about anything else.

 

I remove my hand from his side and see his eyes flicker open at the loss of contact. Then I place it against his head and slowly stroke my fingers through his hair, over and over. He half closes his eyes this time and his voice becomes quieter and a little lower. If I didn't know him better, I'd swear he was about to start purring.

 

I don't know how I did this. How I managed to get all of his walls down in one night. But as his arm curls around my waist, I'm glad I did.

 

I give him a small smile and lean in a little closer until our foreheads a pressed together.

 

His eyes go wide again for a moment, but I just keep trailing my hand through his hair, (which is far softer than should be allowed) and he calms right down.

 

He's talking about his mother now, his voice is full of adoration and tinged with sadness.

 

Then I tell him about mine, or what I used to imagine she'd be like when I still thought she and my father would come pick me up from whatever boys home I was staying at and whisk me away to a better life.

 

"You still go back there every summer?" He presses me.

 

I shrug tilting my head to the side a bit and causing my nose to bump against his. He doesn't seem to mind much. "The Mage says it's safer."

 

"No, The Mage wants to keep you isolated so he can maintain his influence over you." Even half asleep Baz is sharp as a whip.

 

"You're wrong."

 

"Very rarely." He says it like he's completing my sentence.

 

I just sigh, biting my tongue instead of answering because I don't want a bitter taste left in my mouth after how the rest of tonight has gone. "Let's just not tonight, okay?"

 

I expect him to fight me, but he just says, "Okay." and like every other word he's spoken I breathe it in and any bitter taste that was on my tongue is long gone.

 

His eyes flutter closed again, fully and properly this time. It is late, we should actually get some sleep.

 

It could ruin everything, but I'm also pretty sure nothing could ruin this. So I press my lips softly to his for the briefest of moments. "Goodnight, Baz."

 

It was barely a peck, but I can't feel his breath caressing my lips and cheeks anymore. For a moment I'm worried he's mad and that I have ruined everything. I keep my eyes closed, not ready to face the look of anger, or disgust or whatever it is on his face right now.

 

Just when I think he’s actually decided to forgo breathing entirely, I feel his breath across my lips. Not just a breath but words too.

 

"Goodnight, Simon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya all, hope you liked. 
> 
> Alas, the way I've created this story doesn't leave ample room for angst (or an actual plot) IMO. So whilst I'm finishing off this lil thing, I've been trying to figure out what my next proper plot will be. Thus far I have 2 contenders. 
> 
> 1\. Canon divergence in which Baz is there for his mother's visiting but more importantly, he's there to tell Simon that the other ghost is HIS mother. Lucy proceeds to manage to tell Simon about his father(tm), one thing leads to another, Simon figures out it's The Mage and does not react well. He enlists Baz to help him get a little payback? V much inspired by the song 'Strip Away My Conscience" from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, which you can find here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4jpnx9UU3vE Though I'm not a fan of song fics so it very much so won't be one. I'm just giving credit for inspiration where it's due.
> 
> 2\. Uni roommates/superheroes AU v much inspired by this post https://hermajestymills.tumblr.com/post/141942446093/heroine-on-top-of-the-villain-lady-holding-her   
> quite probably femslash. In which Simon is handing out vigilante justice and Baz figures out what he's up to and decides to become his arch-nemesis because he doesn't know how to deal with his feelings. Feat. Baz being the least evil supervillain of all time.
> 
> Anyways opinions are always welcome and other options will be considered if you present something interesting?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh I didn't think I'd get around to updating tonight because I've been neglecting uni work in favour of writing fanfic and now it's catching up to me.  
> But here we go!  
> Fair warning. This is a more angsty one. It also has far too many POV switches for its length which I think is a testament to how hard I've made it for myself to write angst into this story.

**Baz**

I'm avoiding going back to our room again. It's late very late. I'm half worried Snow will have a nightmare while I'm out and I'll come back to discover I've ruined everything by not being there for it.

 

Is there something to ruin though?

 

He kissed me.

 

Not for long, and not passionately or emotionally. But he _did_ kiss me. He kissed me goodnight.

 

I don't know what to do about that.

 

Does it mean something?

 

Does it mean nothing?

 

He and Bunce have always been strangely close, I wouldn't put it past them for that to be some kind of weird friendship thing. Snow doesn't have any other friends really, save Wellbelove and he's certainly done more kissing than that with her. Does he just think that's a regular part of friendship?

 

Which begs the question; does Snow think we're friends?

 

We did get awful close last night.

 

Crowley, why did I let that happen?

 

Why did I tell him anything at all?

 

Because he was right there? Because I could see his blue eyes and his moles and his chapped lips up close? Because he was telling me everything? Because I didn't want him to stop touching me?

 

Snow is always touching me when we share a bed. Not like last night though. Usually, he'll just place an arm around me, he's never trailed his fingers up and down my side before, he's never stroked my hair before. No one has. Crowley, it was so good. I didn't want it to end. I think I'd have told him everything and anything just to keep him there.

 

Does he think that's just what friends do though? It's certainly not what enemies do.

 

I didn't know what to do about all that this morning, so I just treated him as I always do in class.

 

I still don't know what to do about it now, so I think I'll just avoid him for a while.

 

When I get back to our room, I'm relieved to find that Snow is actually asleep this time, not up and waiting for me. He's in his own bed as well, which is an unwelcome change but probably for the best since it will give me time to figure all this out.

 

He's blissfully still for once, free of his nightmares and without me there he's curled back up in on himself. I don't know what to make of that.

 

I change for bed and get under the covers of my own, struggling with the inescapable feeling that something is missing. It's akin to the feeling of losing a watch or a ring you always wear, but significantly more painful. So, I indulge myself and go back to my old habits of watching Snow sleep.

 

It just doesn't feel like enough anymore.

 

**Simon**

There's something about waking up alone after spending weeks cuddling with your enemy that really puts things in perspective.

 

Namely, that Baz is still my enemy.

 

That he doesn't want anything to do with me.

 

That he's right about me being an idiot.

 

I hadn't really thought about it up until this point, but I don't think Baz ever really wanted this. I think he just tolerated it.

 

After all, it was always me getting into bed with him. It was always me cuddling up to him. And it was always me who wanted this.

 

I want him to want this too.

 

I mean, initially, I didn't care. The Humdrum could summon me, Baz was right there, and it didn't matter if he died. Initially, I didn't know I wanted this though.

 

I shouldn't have kissed him. I'm glad I did, but I shouldn't have. Because he didn't want it. He doesn't want this.

 

I never really thought of Baz as the kind of person who just, let things happen. He always seems so in charge, in control, completely untouchable. Like nothing happens if he doesn't want it to. Like the world would stop spinning if he willed it so.

 

So apparently, I just assumed he was fine with all this.

 

Well, he does seem fine with it. When he invited me back to his bed the night after I realised I didn't want him to die, he seemed more than fine with it. Now I think maybe he just wanted me to shut up.

 

Crowley, I'm a fool.

 

I need to stop this. Properly this time. Because he doesn't want this.

 

**Baz**

Simon Snow doesn't make any sense.

 

First, he spends every night in my bed. Then he tricks me into opening up to him. (Though I doubt he planned that, he's too stupid). Then he kisses me. And then, _fucking then_ , he just stops.

 

He doesn't get in my bed anymore. He doesn't wait up for me anymore. He doesn't do anything outside of our usual fighting anymore.

 

I didn't know you could miss something you never really had, but Simon Snow has always been brilliant at defying all logic in my life.

 

I should have seen this coming.

 

It's been a few days, not long, but also far too long. Too long of pretending nothing ever happened and falling asleep separately and just being enemies.

 

He's crying again tonight. He's sitting up on his bed and crying.

 

Good.

 

I hope the fucking Humdrum drags him off and kills him, the prick.

 

He doesn't make any move towards me, he just fucking stays there. I should call him over. I consider for a long while just calling him over. Because I want to make him feel better.

 

But I also want to make him feel worse because right now I feel like shit and that's entirely his fault.

 

"Merlin, Snow, would you shut the fuck up?"

 

He doesn't reply. I hear him get up though. For a moment hope swells up inside me, but then I hear the door open and close and I realise he's left.

 

I roll over to face Snow's empty bed, running a hand through my hair and letting out a long slow sigh because Simon Snow, makes no fucking sense.

 

**Simon**

I've been doing my best to distance myself from Baz. Hopefully, if we just ignore everything that happened long enough, we can just go back to being enemies. It's hard though. It's hard to just be enemies when I have these feelings for him. Or at least, since I'm aware of these feelings. I think maybe they've existed longer than I'd like to acknowledge.

 

I've started doing what Baz used to for his nightmares, getting up and walking about the grounds. He told me it never really helps, it's just because he can't sleep.

 

He's right, it doesn't help. There's always still that nagging fear at the back of my mind about The Humdrum, I try my best to block it out but sometimes I just can't.

 

It's not my nightmare tonight though, it's Baz's.

 

His breathing shallows for a few moments and I spend the entire time gearing myself up to stay put when he wakes up.

 

 _He doesn't want you there_. I remind myself over and over.

 

Then Baz wakes with a gasp and he just lays there for a while, trying to no avail to steady his breathing.

 

The longer I listen to it the harder it is to remind myself that _he doesn't want me there._

 

That particular mantra slowly gets invaded by the memory of our late-night conversation.

 

Cold and dark and dead, that's what he said it had felt like.

 

"Does this help at all?" I'd asked tentatively.

 

"I suppose. You're not cold or dead, Snow."

 

"You're not dead either," I said for what was the first of many times that night.

 

He'd just snorted.

 

"Do I need to turn on the light?" I'd asked. “So, it’s less dark.’

 

I think he thought I was mocking him because he snapped back. "I'm not a child, Snow."

 

He always stays when I’m there. He’d never admit to it but I think it helps him. He never goes back to sleep after a walk, he just stays there till sunrise. He falls back asleep easily when I’m there.

 

And now he’s getting up but my mind has long replaced _he doesn't want me there_ with _I can help._

 

I'm across the room in seconds.

 

**Baz**

As if determined to continue to be an enigma, shortly after I wake up from my nightmare, Snow is beside me.

 

I consider shoving him out of bed.

 

I consider slapping him across the face.

 

I consider finding another chimaera to feed him to.

 

But he's here and he's warm and he's so very alive.

 

He doesn't press up against me this time, he doesn't even touch me. In fact, as opposed to unfurling from the knot he sleeps in to hold me, he seems to be employing the same tactic to not touch me.

 

Now all I can consider is pulling him into me.

 

I don't need to though. Snow runs hotter than the average person, so I can feel his warmth even across the few inches between us. And I can hear his breathing, even if this time I can't feel it across my skin. He's indenting the mattress beside me, so I couldn't pretend he's not there if I tried.

 

So, I settle for this. I settle for having Simon Snow lay inches from me because it's more than I've had in weeks. It's more than I ever thought I'd have again.

 

I might have to go back to faking my nightmares to get him to stay.

 

"Tell me to go, if you want."

 

It might be the most uncertain I've ever heard Snow. Even when he's blathering and making a fool of himself there's an air of confidence around it.

 

I don't say anything.

 

"Baz." He prompts me.

 

I'm starting to think he needs me to say something. What does he want me to say? That I want him to stay? That I need him to stay? That I'd probably sell my fucking wand if I thought it would get him to stay?

 

I hear him sigh and he starts to sit up.

 

I should let him go.

 

But I'm weak, as I always am when it comes to Snow.

 

I roll over to face him and place a hand on his arm. He stops and inclines his head to look at me for a moment. I try to keep my face a mixture of impassive and annoyed.

 

He lays back down anyway and I retract my hand and roll back over to face away from him before I can make any more of a fool of myself.

 

He doesn't move up and spoon me like he used to, he doesn't touch me at all.

 

He stays though, and that's more than I could have hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed. 
> 
> This was very much the storm before the calm. Or the angst before the fluff or whatever. So we're reaching the end here kiddos. Next chapter will be extra soft.
> 
> Now if you'll excuse me, it's 3.30am and I have some spreadsheets to cry into.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and you shall receive the soft stuff.
> 
> This is basically the last chapter plot-wise. (Does this even have a plot? Not really) But I'm a sucker for epilogues, so you'll probably get a morning after chapter. Idk it's half written but isn't shaping up to be very long, so we'll see?

**Baz**

I wake up to sobbing from across the room for what feels like the umpteenth time.

 

I should leave him. Let him go for his walk and calm down, so I can get some sleep.

 

He didn't leave me though. He didn't let me walk out. I don't understand why, but I appreciate it.

 

He spent all those nights climbing into bed with me, surely that means something, surely that means somehow this helps. That somehow, I help.

 

But he stopped.

 

I don't know why.

 

I don't understand him.

 

I do love him though.

 

"Snow." I say quietly across the room, doing my best to keep my tone in check and free of malice. Also, equally free of any emotion.

 

He doesn't respond, but he starts to stand up.

 

"You don't need to go." I mutter. He stops for a moment and I can see him chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before he sits down on his bed, tugging his pillow into his chest, wrapping himself around it.

 

It pulls at my chest in an all too familiar and very unwelcome way.

 

I try to keep my voice impassive as I call him over. "Come here, Snow." The tone of my voice makes it sound a lot less like I'm calling him over to cuddle and a lot more like I'm trying to get him in range for a backhand.

 

He just shakes his head into that infernal pillow, muffling another sob as he does so.

 

I try to convince myself to leave it. To roll over and ignore him.

 

I do try that.

 

But he's still crying, and it feels a lot like that night I first held him.

 

Crowley, it's too much.

 

I should leave him alone. He didn't leave me alone though, when I had nightmares, or when he had them. Then even when neither of us had them. It was more than I could have hoped for. More than I'd ever dreamed could happen. And he gave that to me, even as I blatantly ignored him. Maybe it's time I give him something too.

 

I go to him.

 

I cross the room and tentatively perch myself on the side edge of Snow's bed. When he does it, he's with me in a matter of moments, he practically dives under my covers. I'm not him though, so I take things more slowly, giving him the opportunity to tell me to go. To tell me he doesn't want what I'm offering him.

 

I reach a hand out to his shoulder. Waiting for a few beats to see if he'll shrug me off. He doesn't. So, I move a little closer and wrap my arms around him as gently as I can manage.

 

He shudders against me for a moment. I feel the way each sob claws up his throat.

 

Then he's pushing me away.

 

I don't say anything, but I feel my cheeks heat up a little and I immediately regret being so weak.

 

He doesn't want this.

 

I'm an idiot.

 

Why did I think this was a good idea? I've shown him my hand now and he's rejected me. Crowley, I hate myself more than ever.

 

But he tosses his pillow aside and untucks his knees from his chest in favour of falling against mine. Desperate fingers grasp for purchase on the front of my shirt and he pulls me back into him.

 

I come more than willingly. Letting my arms fall around him and holding him to me.

 

It's awkward though.

 

He's to my side, my legs hang off the bed, I'm twisted around uncomfortably, and Snow is hunching down to bury his face in my chest.

 

I try to detangle myself from him a little, so I can get us more comfortable after all the fallout from Snow's nightmares is never a brief experience.

 

"Baz." He chokes out my name and his grip on my shirt only tightens.

 

It takes me a moment to realise he thinks I'm going to leave.

 

He thinks I'm going to leave and he doesn't want me to.

 

I promised myself I'd never give him any more than this. That I'd never whisper reassurances in his ear or wipe away his tears or press my lips to his forehead.

 

I also promised myself I'd never go to him though, didn't I?

 

In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose.

 

"Shhh." I reach my hands up and wrap them around his, running my thumbs across the backs of his hands until I feel his grip start to loosen. "I'm not going anywhere."

 

I coax his fingers off my shirt, but I keep hold of one of his hands as I get up onto his bed properly, laying one leg either side of him. Pulling back gives me a better look at him, the tears running down his face, the wobble of his lip, the way he scrunches up his face whenever he tries to stifle a sob.

 

The second I stop moving he's upon me again. Sitting between my thighs, letting his legs fall over mine and to either side of me and wrapping an arm around my back to pull our chests together. I brush his curls back from his face and he tucks his head into my shoulder. Fingers grab at the back of my shirt this time and he holds on to me like I'm the only thing keeping him afloat.

 

"It's alright, I've got you." I coo to him, because apparently once I've started, it becomes rather hard to stop. Particularly when every time I say something I feel his grip loosen a little and his breathing slow.

 

So, I keep going.

 

"You're going to be alright."

 

"The Humdrum's not going to hurt you."

 

"Nothing's going to hurt you."

 

"I won’t let anything hurt you."

 

"It's okay, love."

 

"I've got you."

 

I say that and a million other things I don't entirely remember because I wasn't really thinking about what I was saying for once. I just wanted him to calm down. I just wanted him to stop crying.

 

"I've got you, Simon, I've got you. I promise."

 

I've placed my hand on the back of his neck and I'm furling and unfurling my finger in his hair, from soft short strands until my fingers meet bronze curls.

 

He's stopped crying now, but he's still holding me tightly. I squeeze him with the hand wrapped around his waist, letting my fingertips trail up and down his side. Not like when he did it to me, not moving my whole arm and swiping from his hip up till I can feel the bumps of his ribs. I just let my wrist move back and forth slowly, but it seems to be enough for him.

 

I only indulge myself for a little while, just until I can make sure he's not going to burst into tears again the moment I leave.

 

I don't want to leave.

 

I have to leave.

 

I draw back a little and Snow moves his hands to rest above my hips as he leans back too, staring up at me. Tear tracks drying on his face, his mouth just slightly open as he breathes. I try not to stare at his lips, they're chapped and probably covered in the same mixture of tears and snot that’s slowly soaking through my shirt (again). But they're soft and inviting and I want to kiss him.

 

I don't. I consider that one victory for my self-restraint tonight. I settle for bringing my hands up to his face and gently wiping under his eyes with my knuckle.

 

"You alright, Snow?"

 

"Yeah." His voice is steady now and he nods at me.

 

He's still sitting on me, so I can't get up. I make that excuse to myself. I'll make it to him later as well if I have to. I hope he never gets off me, so we can just stay like this forever.

 

The moment I think it he draws in a breath and says, "We should go to sleep." And with that he moves away and goes to retrieve the pillow he tossed off the bed.

 

I nod, even though he's not looking at me and go to stand. The second I get up off the bed I feel a warm hand around mine a look back to see Snow grabbing at me, pillow remaining unrecovered for the moment.

 

We just stare at each other for a moment.

 

"Stay." He finally says, giving my hand a tug back towards him. "I-" He hesitates looking up at me for a moment. I'm entirely sure he's about to start blathering, but then he spits it out. "I want you."

 

Aleister Crowley. Does he hear the words he says sometimes?

 

"To stay." I add. Snow's inability to spit out a full sentence is not going to be the reason I fuck up and confess my feelings to him.

 

"No." He shakes his head, glancing down at our hands, still linked together. I should pull away. I don't. He presses on. "Well, yes, I do want you to stay. But I also just want," He hesitates for a second, giving a small shrug and a weak nervous smile. "you."

 

He _wants_ me?

 

He's an idiot.

 

He's already got me.

 

He's always had me.

 

I just stand there and stare at him as his gaze flickers back to meet mine. His cheeks turning an even brighter shade of pink than was left behind by the crying.

 

"I want you and this and..." He trails off, chewing on his lip again.

 

Is this a ruse? Is he messing with me? I'm too busy caught up my own thoughts to notice when my time runs out and Snow looks away from me, taking his hand back and resuming the search for his pillow. "Sorry, never mind. Let's pretend I never said that, okay?"

 

I realise I've just been staring at him. Glaring at him even.

 

I try to school my face into something less menacing and slowly lay down beside him. It's cold, I'm on top of the covers not under them, but I'm half sure he's going to turn around and tell me he was fucking with me and that he wants me to go.

 

The logical part of me knows that isn't going to happen. Snow's been crawling into my bed for over a month now. He's been cuddling up to me and chasing away my nightmares and getting me to chase away his. And he's a horrendous liar.

 

The part of me that knows he can break me, though? That part of me is scared and apprehensive and entirely sure this is only going to end in more tears.

 

I see a look of relief on his face when he turns around and sees I'm still here. "Aren't you cold?" He presses me. Suddenly I regret all those years of complaining about him leaving the window open because it's foiled me now.

 

"No." I say anyway because unlike Snow, I am an excellent liar.

 

He still sees right through me though. "Look, if you don't want to be here, then I don't want to keep you here." He says slowly averting his eyes.

 

I do want to be here though. At this point in time, there's pretty much nothing I want more than this. So, I move to slide under the covers and Snow takes it as an opportunity to slot one end of his pillow where my head was moments ago. Then he joins me, smiling slightly, that soft sleepy smile he gave me when I woke up to him touching my face.

 

"Baz." He shuffles closer to me, so it's like we were that night we talked, inches apart but not touching, his breath reaching out and tracing the lines of my face. I'm trying not to think about his parted lips and how easy it would be to take them in mine. Or how they felt against mine last time.

 

"Hmm?" Is all I do to respond.

 

"Can I kiss you?" The words are quiet, but I still hear them.

 

I draw in a sharp breath that I doubt he'd have even noticed if we weren't so close. He seems to take it as a no because he backs off a little.

 

"Sorry, I didn't-" He swallows, tilting his head back so he can look at the headboard instead of me. He looks sheepish, embarrassed even, I can see the flush on his cheeks rise to all new levels.

 

I try to open my mouth to respond but nothing comes out.

 

He's talking again. "I'm sorry, I didn't ask the first time, I shouldn't-"

 

I still can't find my voice and suddenly I have a horrifying glimpse into what it's like to be Simon Snow.

 

"I won't do it again I just-."

 

I place a hand on his cheek guide his head down so he’s eye level with me again.

 

He goes to speak again.

 

So, I kiss him.

 

**Simon**

I almost consider getting up and running out of the room again and into the night, just to escape this situation.

 

But then cool lips are on mine and a hand settles on the base of my cheek and I just let myself melt into him.

 

It's slow and tentative and exactly as unsure as I feel.

 

I run my fingers along his jaw like I did that morning he caught me touching his face, and I feel him smile against my lips.

 

I draw back a little and press my forehead to his. I look at him this time, instead of closing my eyes and trying to slink away into the sheets.

 

His eyes slowly open and meet mine and I see him try and wipe that smile off his face. He doesn't quite succeed.

 

It's hard to believe that this is the same boy who spent years tormenting me. Who I spent years tormenting in return. It definitely is though, because somehow, for some inconceivable reason, I like that boy too.

 

The same boy who tried to feed me to a chimaera just held me and whispered reassurances in my ear that he'd protect me.

 

The same boy who's mocked me for being an orphan and being unwanted had spoken about his mother with such reverence in his voice only a few nights ago.

 

The same boy who told me I was the worst mage he'd ever seen spent weeks sleeping with his wand up his sleeve so I'd know he could look after himself if the Humdrum got us. So, he could look after me even.

 

I do like them both. The scheming, brilliant, manipulative bastard and the boy who wakes up in a panic because he doesn't think he's alive enough.

 

I just like _him_ I think.

 

He tilts his head up to place a kiss to my check. It's nice. No one's ever kissed me anywhere that wasn't my mouth before, save Baz's mum, but ghosts don't really count.

 

I move a little closer to him until we're chest to chest, then I slot my arm under his and reach around behind him to grab his shoulder. He, in turn, wraps a hand around my waist.

 

His other hand is tucked under my pillow, right below where his head is like it usually is. The idea of holding hands with him shouldn't make my heart flutter, not after sleeping side by side and kissing. It does though.

 

I let my hand wander under the pillow until I find his and entwine my fingers with his. They fit almost perfectly.

 

I press another kiss to his lips and he lets out a soft satisfied hum.

 

So, I kiss him again.

 

And again.

 

I attempt a fourth, but he pulls back. "Snow, if you're going to keep this up I need you to take that cross off."

 

"Because you're a vampire?" I ask because he still hasn't admitted it.

 

"No." Is all he says a frown creasing his brow.

 

I don't believe him. I unclasp my necklace anyway and toss it across the room, vaguely hearing the sound of it hitting the wall somewhere. "Happy?"

 

"Enough." Is all he says.

 

It gives me pause.

 

"Baz, are you sure this is what you want?" He's being so elusive. Why can’t he just give me a straight answer? Why do I have to nudge him along every step of the way? Why can’t he just tell me he wants this or not?

 

He laughs to himself for a moment. It's bitter and it sets me on edge. I'm half expecting another evasive answer, but he doesn't give me one.

 

"More than anything." He mutters, placing a kiss to my lips. "For so long." He kisses me again. "So badly."

 

He pulls me in properly this time, kissing me long and slow as he mutters. "Yes." against my lips. “Yes, I want this.”

 

It's late and we're both tired. Merlin, I'm exhausted after all that crying. So, it's not the heated, fighting kisses I imagined I'd get with Baz. It's soft and tired but lingering because neither of us is ready for it to end just yet.

 

And it doesn’t end.

 

His lips move slowly against mine right up until the moment we fall asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was meant to be out days ago but EPILOGUES ARE HARD GUYS. I'm still not 100% happy with it but I doubt I ever will be, so eh. So this maybe ended up being the same length as an entire third of the rest of the fan fic but oh well? Think of it as 2 chapters in one I suppose.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy, it's basically just fluffy BS that I probably should have ended after the second POV but couldn't cause I have no self-control.

**Baz**

I wake up to something wet on my cheek.

 

I go to brush it away and my hand makes contact with something solid. Something solid and very warm and far too good to be true.

 

"Ow." Comes a groan from beside me. "Baz use your words not your fists."

 

I open my eyes to Simon Snow still laying in front of me, blue eyes glittering in the light of dawn.

 

"Don't slobber all over my face then, Snow." I rub my eyes to try and wake up.

 

He pouts. "I thought you called me Simon when we were like this?"

 

I raise an eyebrow at him as best I can for first thing in the morning. "Whatever gave you that impression?"

 

"Last night." He says with a shrug. "And the first night I kissed you." He says it so easily like it's just that simple. The thought alone brings heat to my cheeks.

 

"No, I didn't. It was probably part of your nightmare."

 

He just rolls his eyes and leans in to kiss me. I respond eagerly, more eagerly than I should.

 

He smiles when he pulls back, running a hand through his hair and grinning at me.

 

I remain as impassive as I can manage. "Shouldn't you be getting to breakfast?"

 

His grin widens at that and I can't help but roll my eyes.

 

“I've been plotting." He informs me, waggling his eyebrows as if the idea of it isn't absolutely ludicrous.

 

"Have you, now?"

 

"Yep." He mutters, pressing a hand to my shoulder until I roll over onto my back. I comply. How could I not?

 

"I like you here, like this." He says as settles on top of me, his voice getting lower as he leans his head down closer to mine. "You're nicer. So, I figure, if I just don't let you out of bed, you'll just have to keep being nice." He punctuates it by placing a kiss on my lips.

 

"That's a terrible plot." I say, half because it's true and half just to prove him wrong.

 

He pulls away from me, shooting me a glare as he straddles me, sitting back so that the blanket pools around his waist.

 

I slide my hands up the outside of his thighs till they come to rest on his hips. "Counter-plot. You get dressed, go down to breakfast, eat your fill and bring back a plate of those scones you like so much. I'll have my morning shower and then we can just get back into bed."

 

He relaxes at that and moves back into me, kissing a line down my neck as I continue.

 

"It's a Saturday, we could stay here all day. Skip lunch maybe even skip dinner if you can pace yourself with those scones." My voice is barely a whisper by the end of it because Snow is thoroughly distracting me with his mouth and I've unconsciously tilted my head across to allow him easier access to my throat.

 

"Mmm." He hums softly, and I feel the vibrations up my neck. "That _is_ a better plot." He concedes.

 

"Years of practice, Snow."

 

He moves back to my mouth again, kissing me slowly, lazily even. Like we have all the time in the world. We perhaps have all day, but somehow, I'm not sure that will be enough to get my fill of Simon Snow. It doesn't seem like this will be the last of mornings like this, though.

 

I move my hands to his chest and reluctantly push him away. "You should get to breakfast."

 

"Five more minutes." He mumbles, leaning in again.

 

I don't stop him.

 

I lack the force of will to deprive myself of his lips on mine for even another second.

 

**Simon**

It was more than five more minutes. I did eventually make it down to breakfast though.

 

I half think I shouldn't have come down at all, but Baz was right, I was famished. Penny questioned my lateness though and my refusal to go study with her.

 

I can't lie to Penny, it's impossible, also I'm a shite liar. Apparently, I can't dodge around the truth with her either. So, I told her almost everything. Or the short version at least. She wouldn't let me go until I did. And I needed to go, I was almost certain Baz was going to try to back out and pretend last night never happened if I didn't hurry back.

 

I was right of course, I usually am when it comes to him.

 

He was doing up his tie when I came back, said something about going to see Dev and Niall.

 

It took a little bit of coaxing to get Baz back into bed after he decided he was done waiting for me. As it happens though, all it really takes to persuade Baz is a kiss.

 

It's past noon now, we have been here most of the day by this point.

 

I was wrong about one thing, Baz is still an asshole, even when we're cuddling.

 

Now that I think about it in the light of day this is all a little embarrassing, cuddling up to Baz Pitch. It's nice though, it's comfortable somehow, in more ways than just physically. We still volley insults back and forth, it eases the strangeness a little.

 

I wait as long as I can to detangle myself from him. The plate of scones I brought back from breakfast is calling to me though.

 

Baz sits up when I move, he doesn't leave like I half think he's going to, he rests his back against the wall.

 

"Snow, you'll get crumbs in your bed." He chides me as I sit sideways draping my legs across his lap, plate of scones in hand. He wraps an arm around my back to hold me up anyway.

 

I shrug. "I'll just brush them off the side like you do with your salt and vinegar crisps."

 

He rolls his eyes but draws out his wand with his free hand and casts a quick **you're getting warmer**. It earns him a kiss on the cheek. He tries not to let me see the way his lip curls at that, but I can feel it when the muscles of his cheek move a little under my mouth.

 

"Thanks," I say, taking a scone and proceeding to devour it.

 

Baz doesn't do anything. I reluctantly offer him the plate. He doesn't take it. So, I forcefully offer him the plate.

 

"I'm fine, Snow."

 

"No, you're not, you've missed breakfast _and_ lunch." And now nearly afternoon tea. "You need to eat."

 

"No, I don't."

 

"Because you’re a vampire?"

 

"Because not everyone has your insatiable appetite, Snow."

 

I sigh and tear off a piece of my own scone, holding it up to his lips. His eyes widen for a moment and he pulls his head away, but there's a wall behind him so he can't go far.

 

"Snow." His tone is warning, and it sounds like his mouth is a little fuller even though he didn't take the scone. He tries not to open his lips too much when he speaks as well. Fangs, it has to be his fangs.

 

I don't say anything, I just stare him down.

 

"Too sharp." He says in that same tight-lipped fashion. "You might cut yourself."

 

"On your fangs?" I prompt, waiting for that admission.

 

"On my wit." He responds dryly.

 

I roll my eyes at him and continue holding up the piece of scone. "I'll be careful."

 

He looks at me like I'm being a special kind of stupid, but he tentatively takes the piece I'm offering him between his teeth. I do see his fangs, but they're quickly forgotten when I feel his lips brush against my fingertips.

 

So, I break off another bit and hold it up it to him.

 

"I can feed myself, Snow." He mutters, pulling away again.

 

"I know. This is more fun though."

 

He's still hesitant and eyeing me like this is a bad idea. He maintains that eye contact while he leans forward and slowly lets his lips drift over my fingers, taking the scone with him when he pulls away. I actually shiver a little at that.

 

So, I do it again. He doesn't take the scone in his lips this time though, he takes it in his fingers and I can't help but feel a little disappointed.

 

In this moment I'm entirely sure the only thing that could make me happier than feeding Baz sour cherry scones would be him doing the same for me.

 

Then he does. He holds it out to me this time, muttering. "This is so stupid."

 

I swallow, and he blatantly follows the motion with his eyes. Then his eyes are on my mouth as my lips surround his fingers.

 

I think he freezes for a moment and forgets to let go of the scone. So, I move my mouth a little further forward and slip my tongue between his fingers behind the scone, gently moving it back into my mouth as I pry his fingers apart.

 

I'm not sure he's breathing, so I break off another piece and offer it to him. He takes it silently, still wide-eyed. Then he does the same for me.

 

His earlier comments about me not eating all the scones at once are very quickly abandoned in favour of feeding me all of them. All of them that I don't feed to him anyway.

 

He spends the entire time protesting and talking about how pathetic it is, but he doesn't stop.

 

I consider telling him to either shut up or stop. But then what if he actually stops? I won't chance that. Losing the feeling of his lips against my fingers, and mine on his.

 

I do eventually lose the latter. He tells me he’s full and I think we're done for the day. But he just plucks the plate of scones from my hands. He lets me lay my head in his lap and he cards one hand through my hair with his free hand while feeding me morsels of scone with the other. It’s utter bliss.

 

And because he doesn't stop until there are no scones left we've exhausted all our food. So, we _have_ to go to dinner.

 

Also, dinner is roast beef, so I wouldn't miss it for the world let alone my plotting, vampire, roommate (and boyfriend?).

 

**Baz**

I am so hopelessly in love with him. Now more than ever.

 

Snow has taken to sleeping shirtless. I like it. He lets me rest my head on his chest and trace my fingers across his skin, connecting the dots of every mole and every freckle in every pattern I can. He's letting me do it right now. While he runs his fingers through my hair. It feels good. So good. Soothing even.

 

I can hear his heart beating in his chest. It was fast at first when I'd laid down. This isn't new to us anymore, but he still makes mine race too. The thumping in his chest has slowed a little though.

 

The first few nights we slept face to face, holding hands between us, not getting too close, just talking. There was a lot of talking those first few nights.

 

We always thought we knew each other better than anyone. We had to. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer I suppose. We're a lot closer than enemies now though.

 

I thought I knew him.

 

I _did_ know him.

 

But now I know him better.

 

I'd seen him the first day we'd met, all ratty clothes that were far too big. I knew he was poor. I didn't know how much he loved his school uniform. He said it was the first thing he'd ever had that fit.

 

He's an idiot. I knew he didn't think. I didn't know he did it intentionally. I didn't know it was because he was letting the world take him where it pleased.

 

I knew Bunce had a boyfriend in America. I didn't know Simon was so worried she'd leave him.

 

I think we exhausted a lot of conversation topics in those first few days. We mostly sit in silence now. Not an uncomfortable silence. Just enjoying each other’s company, which is very unfamiliar territory for us, but not as daunting as it seemed. Also, if Snow gets tired of the silence he kisses me so he has something to do with his mouth. So, I like the silence too.

 

And the cuddling. There's a lot of that.

 

We slowly progressed from curling up face to face. Sometimes he tucks his head into my chest, or mine into his. And he'll toss his leg over mine. I don't sleep shirtless, it gets too cold. My shirts half off by the end of the night anyway, because Snow slips his hands under so his palm is splayed across my back. I'm not complaining, it's nice.

 

Spooning has made a reappearance. Despite all those years of sleeping in a ball, Snow doesn't like being the little spoon. He says he likes to press his face into the back of my neck because I'm cold. I'd have challenged that if he hadn't taken my hand one night and rubbed it across his face to cool down (that was admittedly, a little strange). So, he mostly spoons me. I'll never admit it, but I rather enjoy that.

 

Sometimes he's on his back and he lets me lay on top of him. Like right now. Sometimes I still lay my head on the pillow beside him, so my mouth easy access to that mole on his neck.

 

I'm not sure how we ever got by without this. I'm not sure how we ever will again.

 

"I'm going to miss you, over Christmas." Snow pipes up, as if on cue.

 

I don't respond immediately. I press my lips to his chest, just over his heart before looking up at him. "You off to Bunce's then?"

 

He shakes his head. "Nah, her parents are trying to distance themselves from The Mage. They don't trust him."

 

I run my fingers up and down his forearm. I could keep connecting the dots across his skin, I know them well enough by now to do it without looking. This is easier though and he seems to enjoy it because he closes his eyes.

 

"Rightly so. Wellbelove's then?" I press him. Hoping against hope that the answer is no. They're not together anymore and Simon isn't the cheating type. But I'm not sure this is the kind of relationship where you _can_ cheat. Snow's sexuality is something we talked about too, he doesn't know if he's gay or not. He just knows he really likes me, apparently. Hearing that was both incredibly frustrating and a little flattering.

 

"No." He says again. "She doesn't want me there, which is understandable I guess."

 

I scoff. I mean, I'm delighted she doesn't want him there. But how could she not want him there?

 

"Where then?"

 

"Here I guess."

 

I frown for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of inviting him to Christmas with me. Are we even in the kind of relationship where you spend winter break with each other? We're never even together outside of this room. He did say he'd miss me, though, didn't he?

 

"You could come to Hampshire." I offer, trying to sound more confident than I feel, and succeeding because I succeed at nearly everything.  

 

"What?" Is all he says in response to my generous offer. Generous to me that is, having Snow around all the time would be a dream come true.

 

"Come with me," I say again.

 

He opens his eyes and lifts his head up slightly to look at me. He's giving me that stupid smile he has. The one he saves for when he's thinking something soppy, or I've said something soppy, or when we're both being soppy and pathetic. Then he just sighs and lets his head flop back into his pillow. "No."

 

"Okay."

 

"I mean, your family hate me." He presses on, offering an explanation that I didn’t ask for or expect.

 

"Yes, but I-" I cut myself off before I can say _love you_. "know they won’t try anything. They're not stupid, Snow, not like you."

 

He huffs at that. "Right, so me being thick is _not_ walking into a house full of people who want to kill me?"

 

"Please, Snow. My father is the only one there who wants to kill you. My aunt won’t be there save Christmas day. My step-mother doesn't care for magical politics and my siblings are all children."

 

"That's very reassuring." He mutters out sarcastically. "And also, _you_ tried to kill me when we were kids."

 

"Not properly. If I really wanted to kill you, Snow, you'd be dead. I'd only have to poison your scones."

 

"And I thought _I_ was a terrible boyfriend." He says more to himself than me. Stopping the motions of his hand in my hair and tilting his head to the side, away from me. I think he's mad.

 

Did he just call me his boyfriend though? He's never said that before. We never talked about that.

 

"Snow."

 

He ignores me.

 

I sigh, lifting myself up a little and adjusting us so my head is near his, instead of on his chest. Several strands of my hair lean down and brush against the tawny skin of his cheek. "Simon. Do you want me to stay here?"

 

"No, get back to your own bed."

 

I laugh a little, at that and it causes his brow to furrow. I don't move though. "I meant over winter break." The words are a whisper, but his head is facing the side and my lips are right by his ear, so he must hear it.

 

I pull my head back just in time to avoid us colliding when he whips around to face me. "Don't you want to see your family?"

 

"Yes, of course."

 

"Then don't stay."

 

"Do you want me to stay?" I ask slowly. For once, not because he's dumb, just because I want to get my point across.

 

He doesn't respond for a few moments. Blue eyes look around anywhere but mine. I half think he's about to say no. I see him swallow and resist the urge to capture his adam’s apple between my teeth.

 

Then his eyes flicker back to mine and he leans up to peck me. "Fine." He says with a small nod.

 

I smile at him and lean in for a little more. "Then I'll stay."

 

It's fine really, I figure I'll head up and go see my family on Christmas Day like Fiona always does.

 

"No." He says and my heart sinks for a moment.

 

I sigh and pull away, sitting up, but he follows me.

 

"As in, I'll come with you. To Hampshire." He clarifies. placing an arm on either side of my neck.

 

I’m elated at that, I try not to show it but I’m entirely sure I’m grinning at him like an idiot. "Do you still want me to go back to my own bed?"

 

He stares at me for a moment, then he smiles in that way he always does before he's about to pounce. Biting his lip as it curls up at the side, watching me through half closed eyes, inhaling deeply, then tackling me backwards into his sheets, leading with his mouth.

 

"I'll take that as a no, then."

 

**Simon**

My nightmares aren't so bad anymore. They're still as awful as ever content-wise. I think Baz gets to me before I wake up now though because even when I'm only semi-conscious I can feel cool hands peeling my hair away from my damp forehead.

 

And I can hear soft words whispered in my ear.

 

"It's just a dream."

 

"Breath, Simon."

 

"Wake up, love."

 

And I do, wake up, eventually. Still shaking but not crying as much as I used to.

 

"I'm okay, Baz, go back to sleep," I mutter, but I hear my voice break, halfway through.

 

He cups my face gently, cooling my feverish cheeks as he wipes under my eyes with his thumbs. "I think the fuck not."  I don't so much hear the words as feel the vibrations of them when he presses his lips to my forehead.

 

I hug him to me, feeling his wand press into my arm. He keeps it in the waistband of his pyjama's now, so I know it's there when I wake up like this.

 

He's still a complete bastard half the time. It's things like that though, and moments like these, that make me remember he cares.

 

Baz isn't an easy person to date (I'm probably not either). He takes a bit of prompting, I had to keep inviting him into bed for a month before he stopped waiting to be asked and that was only because I told him to stop making me ask. I nearly always have to kiss him first. He's not particularly forthcoming unless I open up first. And were in bed. And I've been being particularly affectionate towards him.

 

Baz isn't easy to date at all. He's well worth the effort though. He's always trying to one-up me. If I give an inch, he gives me a mile.

 

When I invite him to bed, he strokes my hair until I fall asleep.

 

I give him a peck on the cheek, he kisses both of mine. And my forehead. And my chin. And the tip of my nose. And everywhere else until he's covered every inch of my face.

 

I tell him it almost used to make me happy when we got nightmares because he'd return my affection. He told me he used to fake his to get me into his bed.

 

I managed to be annoyed about that for all of about a minute before I gave in. He's a scheming bastard, but that's part of the reason I like him.

 

He still hasn't admitted he's a vampire. I'm working on that.

 

He hasn't admitted how long he's wanted this either.

 

 I asked him he just said, "Too long."

 

"How long is too long?" I'd pressed him.

 

He deflected, of course, "Given how annoying you are, 20 seconds is 20 seconds too long."

 

I think it was a long time though because he always goes a little pink when I ask. Then he kisses me till I stop asking. Then he keeps going like he's trying to make up for millions of missed opportunities.

 

He's a cuddler too. He hates it and denies it vehemently while he snuggles up to me. He does a lot of that, snuggling. That _is_ something new about all this, Baz was never so touchy when it was just nightmares.

 

And it's not just nightmares anymore, not really.

 

It's not exactly public knowledge, my relationship with Baz. If you can even call it that (and I do). I suppose you _have_ to call it that when you sleep together every night. And snog. We snog a lot.

 

Still, none of our classmates don't know, save Penny.

 

Agatha doesn't know. That's probably for the best.

 

I don't think Baz's friends know. He's still merciless to me in class. He sometimes apologizes for it later, when he's pushed me too far. I'm not sure if he's actually sorry, or if he just does it so I'll stop pushing him away whenever he tries to kiss me.

 

It's probably better that people don't know really. We spent years at each other’s throats. Crowley, I followed him _everywhere_ in fifth year. And he was always taunting me and vying for my attention.

 

I think Baz would be mortified if everyone realised it was because we were infatuated with each other. I think I'd be mortified, too. Because I _was_ infatuated with him. Obsessed even. I just didn't call it that, I didn't _know_ it was that. I just thought I hated him.

 

I still feel it. The racing of my heart, the way my stomach sinks, the overwhelming desire to slam him up against the nearest wall. I just know it's not hate now. I don't think it was ever hate.

 

Not much has changed for us, not really. I still go to all his football games and occasionally his training, luckily Penny doesn't come so she doesn't see me slip up and cheer whenever he scores. I still glare at him across the dining hall, though now he knows I don't mean it (he also knows I like to look at him, which I am less thrilled about). We still fight and bicker and get in each other’s faces but know I know what he's really thinking when his breath hitches as I close in.

 

Nothing's really changed. Nothing needed to.

 

It's not perfect. Sometimes there are times I wish people knew. Sometimes when I see Agatha looking at him I have to resist the urge to march over to him and snog him till he forgets everything but my name.

 

But mostly I don't mind. I'm happy with this. I'm happy with _him._ That's not something that's going to change depending on whether other people know or not.

 

"Thank you," I say quietly into his chest when the shaking subsides.

 

He presses a kiss to the top of my head, muttering "You can thank me by washing the pyjama shirt you just ruined." into my hair.

 

"If it's such a problem take it off." I nuzzle my head up into the crook of his shoulder.

 

"Do you really think you can seduce me after crying into my chest for twenty minutes?"

 

"Do you really think I can't?" I press back because I haven't failed at it yet.

 

 He knows it too because he murmurs. "Go back to sleep Simon." Then he starts trailing his fingers up and down my back, leaving the other hand on my cheek, between me and pillow, because he knows it cools me down.

 

"Can't," I mumble back, letting out a soft yawn. "Gotta seduce you." I slip a hand under the front of his shirt, rubbing small circles across his stomach. He's very fond of that, but he gets all defensive whenever I accuse him of liking tummy rubs. He's got far too much pride.

 

"You accomplished that a long time ago, Snow. Now to go sleep."

 

"How long?" I ask letting my eyes fall closed and breathing him in deeply.

 

"Go to sleep."

 

"Feel like admitting you're a vampire tonight?"

 

"Feel like going to fucking sleep?"

 

"No," I respond. He just huffs out a breath of air, half exasperated half amused.

 

We’re quiet for a few beats, but I don't want him to be quiet right now.

 

"Baz, do you think merwolves have feelings?"

 

"Shut up."

 

"Only if you don't."

 

"What?"

 

"Keep talking, your voice is comforting." I'd be worried about the blush on my cheeks warming his shoulder further, but I'm already flushed from crying so I doubt he notices.

 

"About what?"

 

"Anything."

 

"You're an idiot, Snow." He says I don't say anything. Then when doesn't say anything I stop rubbing his stomach to poke his side. "And you've worse table manners than a troll." He continues. "You're dumb too. And very annoying. I hate you so much."

 

I laugh a little and go back to stroking his stomach. He's an asshole but he's still a comfort.

 

"You complete fucking travesty." He murmurs into my hair but it's soft, but I can still hear him and it's enough. "Absolute disaster. Paranoid git. Useless excuse for a mage."

 

He says all of that and dozens of other insults, slowly, drawling them out, sounding just as tired as I am.

 

"Gorgeous bastard."

 

"Charming fuckwit."

 

"Best thing that ever ruined my life."

 

He slowly tempers out from insults to ones laced with compliments, to eventually just mumbling disjointed words of praise as we both start to lose consciousness. I hear, "courageous" and "irresistible" and "disaster" and finally, when I'm barely awake enough to register it.

 

"I love you."

 

He startles a little when I move, I think he thought I was asleep. I nearly was. But I'm awake enough to tilt my head up so his lips aren't resting in my hair anymore. So, I can make them rest against mine instead. I blink my eyes open as best as I can, but only for a moment. He looks scared. More scared than he does after his nightmares.

 

"Love you, too," I say softly, my lips barely brushing against his as I speak. "You perfect asshole. Plotting, vampire, fuck." Even as sporadic words muttered sleepily, his still sound a lot better than mine.

 

He just laughs at though. Soft and low and fucking beautiful.

 

And I fall asleep easily. Feeling, safe and loved and completely in love, in the arms of my worst enemy. Knowing he'll look after me and I'll look after him and we'll be damn near untouchable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope yall enjoyed!
> 
> General housekeeping I guess. Someone mentioned to me a while back that maybe I should get a beta reader? So I suppose this is a 'now hiring' segment. (Cause Idk how ur supposed to do this)   
> The successful applicant will be required to chastise me for not studying whenever I send them something. (Also they will NOT have to read the porn I write unless they want to)  
> Probs should have posted that on my more popular fic but oh well?   
> If you're interested HMU on discord at El#7176 or on tumblr at sorbriquette.tumblr.com (which I am apparently using again?)
> 
> Regardless, thanks for reading fam!


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